By DANNY GALLAGHER

The world has fallen in love with "Citizen Kane."

Film historians, experts and critics from around the globe have called it one of the greatest films in the history of the American cinema experience for it's daring and bold portrayal of media mogul William Randolph Hearst during a time when trying to bring down the name of such a powerful man was considered virtual suicide.

Hardcore movie buffs who've spent more time analyzing and praising it than they have raising their own children, assuming they aren't dorky looking enough to find someone to have children with, consider this film the gold standard in everything from cinematography to writing to directing.

The American Film Institute has even immortalized it's place in the annals of film history by calling the greatest movie of all time after they gave it the number one spot on their infamous movie list.

So what? Big deal? Just because "Citizen Kane" is on everyone's personal "Top Five" list doesn't mean we all have to fall in line and follow the crowd of zombies in search of fresh brains to infect.

"Oh, but Danny," you're whining telepathically. "It's such a wonderful story about how one man who had more money than anyone on Earth could buy everything he ever wanted except the one thing he truly wants - love."

Please, turn off the fantasy projector. In this world, if you have the right car, the right clothes and enough scratch, you could score a dinner and a movie date with Claudia Schiffer even if you looked like the Elephant Man on a bad hair day.

"But what about the backstory?'" you're still trying to mentally cram in my head. "It was almost destroyed by a tyrannical man who lied about innocent people and celebrity gossip all for the sake of saving his crumbling newspaper empire and was the most feared human being of his time. But the film made it past his evil clutches, into theaters nationwide and became a classic."

That's just makes me feel more depressed than Harry Knowles trying out for the Olympic Gymnastics team. Even if it is a sucky movie, the fact that someone that powerful can suppress someone else's freedom of speech, even for a short amount of time, is a scary, sad fact of life. Besides, after the First Amendment is disbanded, what could happen to the Second? Carrying a concealed weapon to a movie theater has done wonders to my stress levels.

"Oh really," you say sarcastically in my mind. Seriously, wrap it up. You're giving me a migraine. "Well, why does almost every major movie critic in America and the AFI call it in the number one film of all time?"

Hey, if you followed every piece of advice ever given to you by a movie critic whether it was about films or otherwise, you'd be broke, homeless and sterile within a month. Besides, the term "number one" can mean a lot of things and one involves a keg of beer and a line in front of the mens' room.

I've always been wary of films that are hated by every living human being because if there's a mob at the movie theater with pitchforks and torches chanting for the head of the projectionist who's screening "The Cat in the Hat," then I'm not going to see "The Cat in the Hat." But if millions of people are flooding the theater to see the same movie chanting "We love Ashton Kutcher!", wouldn't you flee the theater in horror? That's scarier than a remake of "Carnal Knowledge" starring Joan Rivers.

To me, "Citizen Kane" falls in the same category. Everyone who's cared about movies as much as or more than me can't stop talking about it like it convinced to get up off the couch, go back to school and take up welding as an exciting, new career. But what's so special about it?

The guy up and dies at the beginning of the movie and there's no gunplay or gasoline truck explosions involved.

It practically killed Orson Welles' career who spent his remaining years hocking grocery store wines on television and getting fatter than a Weight Watchers' class at a Las Vegas seafood buffet.

Plus, he whispers that moronic magic word, "Rosebud," and some hack reporter spends the rest of the film hunting down the name's origin and it turns out to be some stupid sled he had as a kid. The guy has an empire at his feet, a trophy wife that would make Donald Trump jealous and more money than Richie Rich if he were an Enron CEO, and on his deathbed, all he cares about is some sled? That's like Hugh Hefner worrying about getting a date for the prom.

If I was that rich and powerful, guess what my final words would be? April Fools.

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©2004 by Danny Gallagher

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